


All prompts lead to fluff

by elephantfootprints, holesinthesky



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beards (Facial Hair), Crack, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Hiking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More Fluff, Multi, Not staying off tumblr, STAYING OFF TUMBLR, ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1348726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephantfootprints/pseuds/elephantfootprints, https://archiveofourown.org/users/holesinthesky/pseuds/holesinthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elephants and I were supposed to be working on a collab/fervently denying certain major character deaths, but instead we did fluffy drabbles. There is no cohesion, only fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missed texts

Derek crawled into the loft by sheer force of will and gravity. The harpie had claws like a motherfucker and almost boundless energy. He would be embarrassed about having to be rescued if he had enough energy for abstract thought. He could feel the intricate mess of his back slowly meshing and reopening as he moved. He made it to the bed just in time to pass out, his face smushed into the pillow and his legs hanging off the bed in a way that, come morning, he would deeply regret.

When the achy, blood-sticky morning did arrive, it was joined by a furiously flashing light two inches from Derek’s face. His cell phone was having something of a fit. He squinted and pawed at it with stiff fingers until the screen lit up.

Messages:  
Stiles (32)  
I’m worried, please. Just call...  
Dude, seriously, answer you….  
Derek? One text, come on m…  
…

Ah. The pack phone tree. He probably should have checked in last night. He groaned and let his eyes fall closed again. His mouth tasted like something died in it three weeks ago and had started to get runny. He ached all over, and the last thing he wanted to do was explain to Stiles why he didn’t need another lecture on pack safety.

As it turned out, he was saved the effort.

“Hey, you’re up!” Stiles crowed from the sofa. “I was getting bored, man. Not that I’ve been here for hours or anything. Noooo. I arrived at a sensible and rational hour after WORRYING ABOUT YOU ALL NIGHT YOU BIG JERK!”

“Urgh,” said Derek.

“Fine. Whatever. Shut up, I’m coming in.” Stiles landed hard on the bed and rolled gently into Derek’s side. Derek felt lips press against his shoulder.

“Just. For fuck’s sake, call next time, ok? I hate this. You gotta let me help you sometimes.”

Stiles tucked his face into Derek’s neck and went quiet. If Derek curled around that skinny body before he fell back to sleep, well. That’s neither here nor there.


	2. Cheescake

“I make the best cheesecake,” Stiles announced. Derek rolled his eyes and Scott grinned at him.

“No you don’t,” Lydia said. “It never sets properly. And it’s lumpy. And smells like socks.”

“It’s delicious,” Stiles insisted.

“You can’t even cut it,” Lydia said.

“And therein lies the appeal,” Stiles said. Scott nodded.

“It’s true,” Scott says. “When Stiles makes cheesecake you have to eat it all in one go before it disintegrates.”

“Good word!” Stiles said, high-fiving Scott.

“Allison makes a good cheesecake,” Isaac said, smirking. 

“Is that meant to be a euphemism?” Stiles asked. “Because Allison has never offered to make me cheesecake and I’m feeling a little betrayed if she is keeping delicious cheesecake from me.”

“How would that be a euphemism?” Scott asked, confused. 

“It’s not a euphemism,” Isaac said. He ran a finger down his chest and Scott sat straight up.

“Oh!” Scott said. “You mean when she smeared cheesecake down your chest and I licked it off. Yeah, Allison didn’t make that, she just picked it up from the store before she came over.”

Lydia, Stiles and Derek all stared at Scott. He raised his hands defensively.

“What! There’s nothing wrong with store bought cheesecake!”


	3. Turkish hot shave

Stiles brushed a hand over Derek’s jaw, pulling his hand back with a frown. “Dude, there’s this thing they’ve invented called ‘shaving’. You might want to look into it.”

Derek bared his teeth at Stiles and Stiles failed to be intimidated. They had known each other for a week and already Stiles felt comfortable touching Derek. It was a problem.

-

“Okay, no, seriously, how do you manage to maintain an artistic level of stubble?” Stiles asked, inspecting Derek’s chin. “We’ve spent hours every day for the past week looking into Jared's disappearance, and yet you’ve never gone scruffy or lost any of this shadowing. Do you spend the whole time we are in school grooming yourself?”

Derek batted Stiles’s hand away. “One day your face might start sprouting hair and I’ll let you know then. Hell, I’ll take you out for a Turkish hot shave if you manage to grow anything before you’re thirty.”

“A Turkish what now?” Stiles asked, inexplicably flustered.

“A Turkish hot shave,” Derek repeated slowly, rolling his eyes. “Grow some stubble and you’ll find out what it is.”

-

“Right, this stubble is turning into a beard,” Stiles said, cupping his hands around Derek’s jaw. Derek pulled back, frowning at him. Over the years, Stiles’s constant invasion of Derek’s personal space had gone from infuriating, to mildly irritating, to almost endearing, to… this. He liked it when Stiles touched him. He liked that Stiles was comfortable around him. He enjoyed Stiles playful shoves. He looked forward to Stiles sitting too close, pressing their thighs together, having to duck to avoid being hit by Stiles arms flapping about. He missed it when Stiles left and he could still feel his hand on the back of his neck, warm and comforting.

“Sorry, dude,” Stiles said, holding his hands up. “No need to get all ‘grr’ face on me, just making a comment. If you want to embrace your inner mountain man, I’m not going to stop you.”

Derek cuffed Stiles on the back of head. It didn’t help.

-

“I’m not sure about stubble burn,” Stiles said, running a hand over his own chin.

“I like it,” Derek admitted. Stiles punched him in the arm.

“Easy for you to say, this face is as smooth as silk, man,” Stiles said. “Touching this skin must feel like a stroking a baby chicken.”

“I meant on you,” Derek said, moving in to nuzzle Stiles’s neck. “I like knowing you can still feel me.”

“Pervert,” Stiles said. Derek chuckled and Stiles sighed. He was going to need to buy some moisturiser. 

-

“I haven’t shaved for a week!” Stiles said proudly. Derek looked up and frowned. Stiles’s face was covered in odd patches of hair.

“Right,” Derek said. “Why?”

“I’m turning thirty next week,” Stiles said.

“Yes, and?” Derek said. Stiles frowned at him, moving to sit on the armrest beside Derek. It was second nature now for Derek to slide a hand around Stiles’s waist and pull him in close.

“You said you’d take me for a Turkish hot shave if I grew a beard before I was thirty,” Stiles said, looking hopefully at Derek.

“When?” Derek said, swallowing a laugh.

“Years ago,” Stiles said. “When you wouldn’t reveal your secrets for maintaining hipster stubble.”

Derek frowned, the memory slowly coming back to him. Stiles couldn’t have been more than sixteen. “Oh yeah.”

“So?” Stiles said.

“So you’ve got six days to grow a beard,” Derek says, grinning and tugging at a patch of bare skin on Stiles’s chin.


	4. Orange peel

Melissa smelled like Christmas. Like cloves and orange peel and cinnamon and getting fat in front of the fire surrounded by people you love. The first Christmas after they had tentatively started dating this had filled John with a kind of awkward, squirming guilt. Claudia used to smell like this too, after she had made the traditional vat of mulled wine, and he still hadn’t got used to the idea of feeling that same warmth in the arms of a woman who wasn’t her. Claudia had been his first girlfriend, his first love, his first everything. And he missed her.

It sounded like a cliche even in his head, but Melissa was just so different from Claudia, and even now he could say that he loved her almost as much. Where Claudia was soft and kind, Melissa was sharp and quick witted and looked after her own with a ferocity oddly matching with her son’s recently acquired… qualities. But when she was full of rich food and wine and there was something awful on the television she would just melt into John’s shoulder like she was made of honey. She would push her socked feet into his calves, wrap her arms around his chest and fall asleep.

Then Stiles would crash into the house two seconds before curfew, suspicious stubble burn all over his pale face and a grin the size of Brazil and he would look over at them like they were _cute_. It would feel slightly undignified if he wasn’t so comfortable. And if he wasn’t looking forward to the deliciously awkward dating-older-men talk he was going to treat Stiles to in the morning. He was no fool.


	5. Hiking NOT TUMBLR

“NOOOOOO I DON’T WANNA!!” squawked Stiles, clinging manfully to the corner of his desk.

“Yes. Stiles. We are going. Come ON,” insisted Scott, tugging at the ankle Stiles wasn’t currently flailing wildly about the room. He gracefully ducked what would have been a glancing blow to the temple and yanked a bit harder. Scott grinned. Stiles was dislodged.

“We are all packed, Stiles, the car is ready, we are leaving. And you are coming with us, no arguments.”

“I don’t want to go on The Great Pack Hiking Extravaganza, Scott. I haven’t had a weekend to myself in ages, I want to stay in bed with tumblr and porn like a normal seventeen year old. Leave me alone,” Stiles whined.

“Derek will be there,” replied Scott, trying to keep a straight face.

“Shut up, I don’t care where Derek is,” Stiles sulked.

“Sure. Whatever. Because you haven’t been pining over him like a kicked puppy since you guys fought last week,” said Scott, crossing his arms.

“Eugh. Fine. But I’m not gonna enjoy it, and I’m not talking to Derek.”

Three hours later, they pulled a sheepish looking Derek and Stiles out of a bush just in time to get back down the hill for dinner.


	6. Milkshake

“Derek and I are going out for milkshakes,” Stiles called out, grabbing Derek’s hand and tugging him out the door.

“Wait for me!” Scott said, leaping up and stumbling out of the kitchen to follow them.

“Um, Scott?” Stiles said. “Milkshakes is code for sex too loud for a house full of werewolves.”

“Oh,” Scott said, sadly. Stiles looked at Derek.

“Fine,” Derek said, sighing and hiding a smile. Stiles beamed at him.

“We can go for milkshakes with you, first,” Stiles said, throwing an arm over Scott’s shoulder. “And then we’ll come up with a better code word for rocking Derek’s world.”


End file.
